Come In From The Cold
by wintersoldiers
Summary: The Winter Soldier has gone rouge. It's Elena's job to bring him back. Bucky/OC.


**My first hand at writing spies, so please be gentle. And yes, I know Natasha says she calls in the favour from Kiev, but I am taking a few liberties. Reviewers get cookies or kisses. Both, if you're extra good.**

**привет **= 'hello' in Russian. At least that's what google tells me.

* * *

_Intelligence work has one moral law - it is justified by results._

-John Le Carre, _The Spy Who Came In From The Cold._

She had been expecting the phone call to be from the American politician she had been fucking - the one who was overly talkative in bed and had no qualms about sharing secrets with what he thought was a prostitute - but what she got was entirely different.

When the number came up blocked, her first thought was she'd have to dispose of the phone now that it was compromised. No one else had this number, she told herself. Not even her comrades; this was her mission and hers alone.

"привет, Elena."

She froze. It had been almost a decade, but Elena recognised that voice. "Natalia?"

To say Elena Noskova was shocked would be an understatement. Natalia Romanova used to be a legend among the Russian intelligence community; Elena herself idolised her from the moment she was recruited. She looked up to Natalia, vowing to reach the rank of Black Widow one day as well. The feeling was somewhat mutual, as Natalia often looked out for Elena; they trained together, Natalia even taught her a few of her own tricks. It all changed, however, when Natalia defected to the United States and was branded a traitor. She didn't bother asking her how she got access to this number; it wasn't too far beyond her talents as a spy, and Natalia wouldn't have given her a straight answer anyway.

"I'm calling in my favour," Natalia said casually, as if they were having a friendly chat, not one that could get Elena killed.

A favour that had been ten years in the making. Elena was more than aware she owed Natalia a great deal; she would never have expected they would be working on opposing sides when it was called in. She shouldn't even be entertaining the idea. Elena should have hung up the phone as soon she found out it was Natalia.

But she didn't.

"What do you need?" Elena found herself asking. Of course she didn't trust Natalia; she didn't trust most people. But the call - no matter the outcome - would be kept between them, they would both make sure of that.

"I need a few files about a special project. Some information on a couple of assignments."

Elena could have laughed. "That's not a favour, Natalia; that's treason." If it was something small, something personal, than maybe Elena could have found a way to repay her. But this, trading secrets? This was unacceptable. Natalia may have been willing to betray her country, but Elena was not. "I can't give secrets like that over to S.H.I.E.L.D."

"You're not giving secrets to S.H.I.E.L.D," Natalia pressed, and Elena could imagine the way her brow would be quirked as she did, "you're giving them to me. Besides, S.H.I.E.L.D isn't exactly a huge factor anymore."

Ah, yes. It was impossible to ignore, really. It wasn't everyday an intelligence organisation as significant as S.H.I.E.L.D implodes; all of their secrets were now readily available and so very accessible. Elena was still deciding if that could be counted as a win or not.

"Tell me what you need," Elena said cautiously, "and I'll see what I can do for you."

She couldn't see Natalia, but she could just picture the smug smirk plastered on her face, the one she always got when knew she had won.

"I need everything you have on The Winter Soldier."

* * *

The Winter Soldier was a Russian legend. Russia created him, Russian trained him, Russia perfected him. He was a symbol of Russian innovation, and Hydra stole the credit. Elena had heard the stories - nearly every agent had. Most wrote him off as a myth, but to those who knew what to look for, he was all too real.

Getting the files for Natalia was easy. When the call was finished, Elena destroyed the phone and deactivated the number. She got a quick message to her politician (the mission always comes first) before returning to the office to begin searching for the files Natalia requested. Elena had worked hard to earn the trust and respect of her superiors; she was a good agent, after all. One of the best. She knew exactly where to look, who to talk to, what questions to ask.

She made copies to send to her sources in America who were ready to make the drop off. There were hundreds of medical reports, pages and pages of schematics and blueprints of the bionic arm, and photographs of the Soldier before, during, and after the procedure. He was a handsome man, Elena thought, lingering on the photo of him in his military uniform. She drew all the files together, making copies of innocuous documents to ward off any suspicion.

When General Kozlovsky called Elena in, she honestly thought she had been caught.

Elena waited outside Kozlovsky office, and ran a hand through her pale blonde hair, hoping she looked presentable for the General. Her expression was impassive when the door to the office opened, and Kozlovsky stepped out to greet her. Kozlovsky was a stern looking man, tall, broad-shouldered, and well built despite his age. 'Father figure' was not a term Elena would use to describe his relationship to her, but it was well known she was a favoured agent under his command.

"Agent Noskova," he said by way of greeting, before gesturing inside. "Please, do come in. Have a seat."

Elena rose and followed the General inside his office. Nothing about his expression or body language told her he was upset with her, but that hardly mattered. Kozlovsky was always fond of Elena, but made no exceptions with her whenever she made a mistake. She would be reprimanded like any other agent, so Elena made sure she never made a mistake again.

"Your mission with the American," Kozlovsky made a vague gesture with his hand as she took a seat, "the politician. It goes well?"

"Yes, General." Her voice was sure and even, betraying nothing of the uncertainty she felt. "The ambassador is can be quite...loose-lipped in the bedroom."

General Kozlovsky chuckled. "Indeed. You've done very well, Elena."

"Thank you, General." Compliments weren't foreign to her by any means, but there was something about this meeting that felt off. She was tense, waiting for him to mention the files, the call from Natalia.

"As you may have guessed already, I didn't call you in simply for a mission report," Kozlovsky continued. "There is another matter at hand, Elena. One that concerns The Winter Soldier, and by extension, you."

Elena kept her expression neutral, but inside, panic rose from the pit of her stomach. "How so?"

"The Asset has not checked in with his handlers in some time. After the commotion in Washington, he has been," he paused, choosing his words carefully. "...difficult to locate. We believe he has gone rogue."

She wanted to let out a sigh of relief before the seriousness of this new situation dawned on her. Losing an asset like The Winter Soldier was unthinkable; losing him to the Americans would be even worse. Even without S.H.I.E.L.D, there were still many other organisations that would be… interested in him and his secrets. It made sense, now, why Natalia was interested in the files. And Elena was more disappointed in herself for handing them over to her now.

"With Pierce dead and Hydra in shambles," the General continued, "there is no one to keep him in check. He is dangerous, Elena." All trace of earlier laughter was gone from his face, and he stared hard at Elena. "He needs to be brought back in."

"I understand, General." Elena's heart skipped a beat as realised where this was going. A flood of emotions coursed through her; anxiousness, pride, relief, a subtle hint of fear. The fact he was entrusting this mission to her was no small display of confidence, of faith in her abilities.

What he wasn't saying - what he didn't need to voice aloud - was that he wanted The Winter Soldier back in the hands of Mother Russia. It was a matter of pride and patriotism, really; and Elena was inclined to agree.

The General rose from his desk, and clasped Elena's shoulder firmly. He stared at her, his expression unreadable, yet his intentions clear as day.

"Bring him home, Elena."


End file.
